Tribute to Joe Mantegna
by r.i.p. musictaco
Summary: After a car accident and fluke with the insurance company, Rossi has quite a time dealing with his less than favorable rental car.


Walking out the door from his house, SSA David Rossi remembered the accident landing his beautiful red BMW back at the dealer for a couple of weeks. What was even worse than losing such a nice car was being forced to downsize. Shouldn't they give a choice on what rental car you get? I guess not since they gave the profiler a silver 1972 Gremlin for the time being. Yeah... let's just hope no one like Garcia horribly embarrasses him with it.

He unlocked the car and pulled the door back to get in the car, when it shut on its own. "What the...?" He opened the door again, only to have it draw away from him again with what sounded like a 'ha ha' noise. "I don't have time for this." Rossi muttered, stepping in front of the door, opening it quickly, and when he had one leg in the car, it closed on that.

"Mind getting out of me?" A voice asked coldly.

"Who said that?" He withdrew his leg from the car, clutching it as pain throbbed through it.

"Me, stupid. I thought you were smarter than that." It replied. He looked around, but saw no one.

He leaned over the windshield when he heard, "Get off my hood!" Rossi immediately pulled back at the sight of green eyes appearing on the windshield.

"What is this?" He thought is was all just a horrible prank. "Are you-no... cars can't talk." He told himself.

"Actually they can, buddy."

"No, I'm just hallucinating. It's all a joke. Anyway, I need to get to the BAU." The profiler opened the door again, and yet again, it dismissed the request by shutting the door. "Damn it, I don't have time for this!" He pulled at the handle, but now it was locked, and wouldn't open at all.

"Told you I'm not just a stupid lemon." It sneered.

"A what? I never called you a lemon. The only lemons I know are yellow, and much smaller than you." Oh Lord, now he was talking to a **car**. This isn't happening; it's all a nightmare, and everything will go back to the way it was.

Frustrated at the ignorant car, Rossi was determined, yet a little out of it. "Two can play that game. I bet I can make you open the door." If anyone was listening, they'd have thought he had for sure gone crazy. But he wasn't going to let a, normally lifeless, car outsmart him. He pulled out his keys again, desperate, and drew a line slowly on the driver's door, back to the rear left door.

"Ow, ow, stop!" The Gremlin moaned. Rossi did, but the door remained sealed. "Stupid lemon."

The FBI Agent folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, what is a lemon?" He received no answer from the car, and moved back to the backseat window. _Desperate times…_, Rossi thought, before kicking in the window. The car retaliated by swiftly swinging the windowless door at the profiler, knocking him down.

_Being assaulted by a car, that's new. _He stood to his feet again, only to be pushed back down by the same door. He repeated the process, moving towards the front of the car, where he almost broke his nose from tripping on a outstretched tire. Pulling himself up, he moved to sit on the hood, hoping he wouldn't be battered further here. But the eyes on the windshield were still creepy, so he moved to the top of the car. Sitting on the roof made him wonder why he put up with an apparently, talking car this long. Rossi stood up to make his way down and was about to step on the trunk when a car pulled up towards him with a familiar face inside. _Hotch is here, great... and I'm standing on my car. _

"Hey Aaron." The older man standing on his rented car said coolly.

"Hey Dave..." Hotch gave him a look, that was begging to just roll on the floor and laugh until he hurt. "Why?"

"It talks." Rossi informed the other man.

"What does?" The black haired man asked seriously, gaining control of his emotions.

"This car." Rossi answered, stomping on the roof.

Hotch didn't believe one word, giving him an incredulous stare. "Whatever you say-wanna get down from up there?"

Dave nodded, climbing down carefully past the trunk. "I'm serious."

"Dave, so am I when I say you need a couple days off." Hotch told him.

Rossi shook his head. "No, I need to get away from this car. The BAU is exactly what I need. I'll take violent people over violent cars any day. That at least makes sense."

"Get in, I don't want you driving, thinking a car is out to kill you." Hotch held open the passenger door for his friend.

"You don't know the half of it." Rossi muttered.


End file.
